by S. Layne
I smile and his lips drop to mine.
He kisses me briefly but passionately before he pulls me to my feet. “It’s late. Let’s get these boys to bed.”
I wrap my arm around his waist and let him walk me to the game room. When we get there, a football game is on the big screen and I look over to see Jeremiah shout, “Game on, man! I totally kicked your ass.”
Ben is quieter, but he still raises his hand into a fist-bump. “Good job, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Younger than me.” Ben shrugs.
Jeremiah slinks into his chair, affronted at the nickname.
“Time to turn in,” Donovan says, standing behind me in the doorway. Immediately, the screen goes blank.
Apparently, threatening the loss of video games for six months if Jeremiah didn’t turn them off as soon as Donovan requested, game saved or not, was enough of a worry for Jeremiah that he always listens.
Both boys clamber to their feet, Jeremiah relaxed and smiling, and Ben…hesitant and sad and bruised and so freaking broken I want to pull him into my arms.
“You still want to stay?” I ask Ben as Jeremiah heads out of the doorway. Donovan gives us a few minutes alone, which I appreciate. “I can take you anywhere.”
Ben looks around the room, the leather furniture, and I know he’s probably as overwhelmed as I was when I first showed up here. “It’ll do for the night, I guess.”
I smirk. Yup. My exact reaction.
“Come on.” I nod toward the door. “Let’s turn in. You’ve had a hard night, and I have a feeling tomorrow will be just as difficult.” He doesn’t say anything until we get upstairs and I rest my hand on his shoulder. There are so many things I want to say…promises I want to make…but I can’t lead him on and I don’t want to hurt him by not following through. “We’ll do whatever we can to help you, you know. But at some point you’re going to have to let me know how I can do that.”
Ben licks his lips, staring at his feet. With a simple nod, he turns and opens the door to his room. It closes behind him, almost in my face, and I stand there for several moments, until I hear the lock click and I know I’ve lost him.
At least for the night.
When I woke up this morning, I knew today was going to be difficult. I just didn’t know how hard it was going to be to listen to Ben tell us, after much gentle prodding, that his mother lets his stepdad do whatever he wants because “he’s better than his first dad.”
I don’t know if my heart has ever hurt so much. There’s a pain in my chest as I slowly glance at Donovan, watching his hands ball into tight fists at his sides and a muscle tic in his jaw.
He might be more upset than me.
Ben scoops a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth and chews slowly, acting like this is no big deal.
“I’d like for you to talk to my lawyer about this today, Ben.”
“No.” He takes another bite and Donovan blows out a slow, calming breath through slightly parted lips.
“Your stepfather won’t know about it,” I say, and move close to him.
He stiffens his shoulders when I sit on the stool next to him, but I don’t touch him.
“But if we talk to Jensen, he might be able to help us figure out what to do now. You can’t go back there.”
He relaxes slightly and shovels another mouthful in, scraping the sides of the bowl with his spoon.
“I can get you more food.”
He pushes the bowl away. “I’m done. What do I do now?”
It’s the first time he’s asked. The first time I’ve seen helplessness flash in his eyes instead of arrogance.
“Have you been going to school?”
He rolls his eyes but shrugs. “Most of the time. Not doing good, though.”
I suspect he goes to school to avoid his home, but at least he’s going.
“I can call your school and get your absence today excused. We’ll meet with Jensen, and once he knows your story we can figure out how to proceed.”
“What are my options?”
I look at Donovan and he nods his head, seeming to understand that even with as little as this kid trusts anyone, he has some level of respect for me. I’m not a stranger like he is.
“You’re sixteen, so you have a few. The first is we can try to see if you qualify for emancipation, which means the state determines if you’re able to live on your own, or at a home of your choosing, and your mom will relinquish all rights to you.”
He flinches but says nothing.
“The second is foster care.”
“Hell no.” He jumps off his stool and scowls, crossing his arms. “Fuck if I’m taking my chances on a new dad to kick my ass. I’ll do the first one and be on my own.”
I stand slowly from the stool to not scare him or push him away. He reminds me of a cornered animal, and I don’t want him to dart. “We have time to decide all of this, but I’d like for you, in the long-term—even if your emancipation goes through—to consider staying here. With us.”
His eyes dart from mine to Donovan’s. Then his eyes take in Donovan’s scowl, his hardened jaw, and his muscled body. I don’t have to look at Donovan to know that Ben sees what I did this morning when I hit the kitchen: designer, well-fitted jeans, a dress shirt untucked, and hardened eyes that are still caring and compassionate despite his anger with what he saw last night and what he’s heard this morning.
I give Ben time as he continues looking everywhere, taking in every part of the house that he can see.
Minutes seem to pass before he shrugs. “We’ll see.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
Without another word, his shoulders slump, and he walks out of the kitchen toward the living room. When I hear his footsteps on the stairs, I exhale a breath.
Warm hands wrap around my shoulders from behind and I feel Donovan’s breath at my neck. “You did good.”
I raise my hand to my shoulder and cover one of his hands. “So did you.”
“He’s terrified.”
I nod. “And angry. Hurt. Confused.” My chin trembles and I bite my lip so I don’t cry.
He twists me, spinning me slowly until I’m facing him, and his hands slide up the sides of my neck until they’re under my jaw, tilting my head back. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Leaning forward, our lips brush against each other.
The kiss is soft and slow but full of passion. A promise. I lean in and rest my hands on his hips, pulling him to me. Even with the stress and the exhaustion from last night, and—at least for me—not being able to sleep for fear that Ben would sneak out in the middle of the night, my body still responds to Donovan’s lips and his tongue as it tangles with mine.
I love it. I want more of it. A whimper escapes my throat, showing my need, when Donovan’s phone begins buzzing on the counter.
He pulls back instantly. “It’s probably Jensen.”
I nod, and watch as he answers the phone without looking at the screen. “Hello?” And then he scowls, and everything in his shoulders tightens. “Good morning, Mother.”
Ugh. A very unfeminine snort escapes my mouth and Donovan shoots me a look, shushing me with his finger over his lips.
“This isn’t a good time…yes…no…Talia and I will be there. Jeremiah will not.”
I frown, showing my displeasure as his stance hardens and he runs his hand down his face. I can’t hear what his mother is saying, but if his expression speaks for his response, then she’s not being any nicer than she was just a few days ago.
“Fine,” he clips harshly. “Saturday brunch. But I warn you now,” he says, his eyes piercing mine with sincerity, “you say one incorrect word to Talia and we’re gone, and you’ll never see me again.”
He hangs up almost immediately after and heaves a frustrated sigh.
“She’s a piece of work.”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s conniving and I don’t trust her, but she wants to get together. Claims she’s considered wha
t I had to say and wants to get to know you.”
“I don’t trust her.”
“Good.” He grins and wraps an arm around my back, pulling me to him. “You shouldn’t—and I don’t, either. But I’m curious to see what she’s planning.”
I’m picturing a brunch with a dozen women who are more wealthy, more fancy, and more schooled and refined than me, being paraded in front of him like a cattle ranch. Ripe for his pickings.
“Hey.” He tilts my chin up with his thumb and brushes his lips against mine. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle her.”
I’m not so certain.
But when his cell rings again, and this time it is Jensen, I excuse myself to go get ready for a meeting with an attorney.
I have no idea if we can even do anything to help Ben, and my nerves are already shot. The thought of spending an afternoon with Claire Lore in just a few days is not what I need in the back of my mind.
I have met Jensen Rhodes only a handful of times, when I’d joined James and Laurie at events through James’s old law firm. To me, Jensen is hard and unyielding. His deep brown, almost-black eyes match his hair almost exactly. His suit screams power. And while he’s always been polite to me, showing a professional indifference, I have never seen him interrogate a client.
And that’s exactly what he’s done today.
I have no idea how Ben has answered all of his questions, but the four of us, Donovan included, have sat in a small conference room for the last two hours and I’ve listened, biting my tongue to keep from lashing out at some points and crying at others, while Ben has described the horror of what he’s lived with.
Physical abuse. Emotional Abuse. Parental neglect from his mother, who simply turns a blind eye.
I have crescent-shaped grooves in my palms from my hands being curled into fists with rage.
Never have I been so angry with another human being in my life.
At the same time, never have I been so proud of a teenager for being so honest and forthcoming. I expected Ben to whither under Jensen’s demeanor. Instead, he seems to have flourished, as if he somehow trusts this man to get him out of hell.
I would throw my arms around Jensen and cry into his shoulder if I wasn’t so afraid of his reaction.
Emancipation. That’s the route Ben agreed to, and when I spoke up and questioned Jensen if it was really possible for him to do that, he slid his narrowed, dark chocolate eyes in my direction and stated, “Let me handle it.”
I stiffened my shoulders and rolled my lips together to keep quiet, nodding once. James always described his former partner as ruthless and cunning.
I see a man who wins. And if I were ever opposite him in the courtroom, based on his behavior today, I’d probably pee my pants a little bit with fear.
Having him on my side, however, makes me feel formidable. Undefeatable.
Sliding paperwork into his folder, Jensen closes it and rests his hand on top. “You will not have to speak to them if you don’t choose. Everything will go through a judge, and I can guarantee that with the amount of judges I know personally, we will get you the earliest court date possible.”
Ben says nothing, but his shoulders seem lighter, less burdened than they did three hours ago when we were getting ready to head to the office.
We have Jensen to thank for it—although I’m sure he couldn’t care less about a simple “thank you.”
“When will we know?” Donovan asks, his hand still on my thigh in comfort.
“End of the week. I’ll get working on this right away.”
“I appreciate it.” Donovan nods once and stands.
Sensing the meeting is now officially done, I do the same.
“Thank you, Jensen,” I say, shaking his hand across the table. “I really appreciate this.”
In addition to helping Ben, he also spent time discussing the legalities of a minor staying with us, or with me, and the risk to my licensure. Until Ben is emancipated, him staying with us is still inappropriate, but Jensen assured me with utmost confidence that he’ll handle any problems that may arise. His tone leaves no room for arguing. He’s also assured me he’ll have someone in his office handle everything I’ll need to take a more backseat, office role with my center.
It makes me sad, in some ways, to be stepping away from some of the kids, and I know I’ll have a busy fall with hiring new counselors as well as getting construction started on the new place. But I have Donovan to thank for all of it. And now, Jensen.
“It’s my job,” he simply states, releasing my hand from his firm grip. “How are James and Laurie?”
I smile lightly. “Good. James likes his new job, and Laurie says they’re happy.”
He nods once. A slight glimmer in his eyes appears before it vanishes, so quick I almost missed it. “Good.”
Then he turns to Donovan. “I’ll keep you posted as soon as I hear.”
“Appreciate it.” The men shake hands while I usher Ben out of the office.
“You did really good today,” I tell Ben, walking quietly next to him.
He’s showed no emotion, and I wonder if he’s in shock, scared, or just relieved that someone is stepping in to help him. It can’t be easy for him to trust me. Sometimes this seems too easy. But until he shows signs of trouble, I decide to roll with it and take things as they come. There’s always the possibility that he’ll be emancipated and on his own and want nothing to do with us.
A simple shrug of his shoulders is his acknowledgement to my words.
“Do I have to stay with you until the court stuff?”
I press the button on the elevator, watching as the numbers climb to our tenth floor. “You don’t have to—” I start to say, but Donovan interrupts, coming up behind us.
“But we’d like you to.”
Ben whips his head around, looks uncertainly at Donovan. “Why?”
“Because Talia likes you and I want to help.” He shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s as simple as that.”
For all the honesty he’s given us, I know Ben is having a harder time trusting Donovan with anything. Not that I blame him. But even now, he takes a small step next to me, away from Donovan.
Donovan notices like I do. I can see it in the quick flick of his eyes to Ben and then to me.
The elevator dings, doors open, and Ben turns to step in. We follow him, giving him space on his own side of the elevator while he stares up at the number pad.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt anything.”
The doors close with a ding that seems to echo. At his acquiescence, I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “You’re safe with us, Ben. I swear it.”
Donovan slides his hand out of his pocket, a key ring between his thumb and finger. “This is for you,” he says, handing the keys to Ben. There are only two keys on the ring, and I watch, brow furrowed, as Ben sticks out his hand.
His lips are twisted. “What is it?”
Donovan shrugs, easily sliding his hand back into his pocket after he drops the keys into Ben’s palm. “A key to the house. And your car.”
“What?” The kid’s eyes practically bug out of his head.
Mine do the same and my jaw drops. “Donovan.”
His eyes slide to me and he smiles. “This is your freedom. You can go anywhere you’d like. Do anything you want.”
Ben stares at the keys as if they could bite him, and my blood begins to boil in my veins.
“But I’m hoping you don’t,” Donovan says sincerely. “You’re sixteen, so you should have a car. You’ll need it to get to school. But I expect you back at the house by ten on school nights, midnight on weekends. We’re not trying to control your life, just make it easier for you. And only you can decide if you want the help.”
A pure, heated love for this man next to me slides through me. He’s giving Ben the decision, and even though I’m terrified he could just take off, I sincerely hope he doesn’t.
“You have your freedom to go anywhere yo
u want. I’m just hoping you choose to stay—even past your court date, whenever that might be.”
Ben’s fist tightens around the keys in his hand and his head drops. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I see his chin tremble slightly.
When the doors ding and open on the main lobby floor, he slowly lifts his head and looks Donovan directly in the eye. His jaw is hardened, his eyes tight, and his entire expression is firm. “Thank you.”
Then his eyes slide to mine, which are quickly filling with tears. My fingers tangle together, my heart filled with uncertainty. I want to pull him into my arms, but don’t want to push him away by doing so. “I’ll stay. This is too much.”
“It’s not enough.” I shake my head. “Not nearly enough.”
Emotion clogs my throat as Donovan leads us out of the elevator to the lobby. He has to go into work now, and now I know why he was so secretive earlier today with Bentley.
Because at the curb outside is Bentley, standing by the car that will take Donovan to work. And in front of it is a brand new black Chevy pickup. My eyes almost bug out of my head, and both Ben and I turn to Donovan, who grins.
“Thought you’d like a truck. Didn’t think you’d like some luxury stuck-up car like Bentley drives.”
Ben smiles, the first full grin I’ve ever seen on his face, and his eyes widen with glee. “This is the shit.”
I nudge his side with my elbow but don’t correct him. He’s sixteen. And really…this is the shit.
“It’s yours.” Donovan nods in my direction. “Get Talia home safe, would you?”
“Yeah.” His voice trails off and he turns back to the truck. It gives Donovan and me just a moment where I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
“You’re incredible. Thank you.”
He pulls me to him, brushes his lips across my cheek, back to my ear. “You can show your gratitude later.”
I laugh, throwing my head back. “Deal.”
When he lets me go, he walks to Ben, who’s still admiring his truck in awe. I have to hand it to Donovan: the truck is awesome—simple but big. And he’s right: Ben wouldn’t be comfortable in some sports car. He’d be too far out of his comfort zone in something flashy. But this truck is perfect. Screams Midwestern, a bit of money, cool. Perfect for Ben.